


Stolen

by ricochet



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, When in doubt add weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricochet/pseuds/ricochet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The R.O.E. in place don't exactly adhere to the Geneva Convention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The cold burned against Nate's face despite the absence of any wind. Over the last eight days it had crawled down his throat and burrowed into his chest until he was half convinced there was hoarfrost on the inside of his lungs. It hurt to breathe. Every step he took punched through the thin crust of ice, and left him mired passed his knees in dragging snow. He flexed his fingers inside his gloves and kept walking.  
  
The sun was a smear of pale gold just above the Western horizon, to diffused by the hovering clouds to do more than hint at its presence. If Nate could have held it in the sky by will alone, he would have. The coming night didn't concern him, but because the following dawn marked the deadline he'd been given.  
  
His radio hissed, and crackled, but Nate didn't stop to check it. If anyone could get the fucking things working it'd be Ray, back at the camp. Until he did there wasn't any point.  
  
The sun set.  
  
Nate kept walking.  
  
Not for the first time, he lost track of the passing hours in the dark. The cold, vicious in the light of day, grew extra claws and fangs in its absence, and Nate wasn't sure he could still feel his toes. He reached up with one gloved hand and knocked the crystals of frost off the hood of his coat. Some of it fell in his eyes and Nate stopped walking to blink them clear.  
  
Through the blur of melting ice that lay over his vision like a screen, something caught at him. Nate turned his head toward it, and squinted in the dark. He took three steps to his right, and scrapped away a layer of snow with the side of his hand.  
  
What he'd thought was stone was ice, likely as thick as his arm. The trapped air inside it fractured the pittance of light there was into something even harder to see in, but it didn't matter.  
  
On the other side of the ice, summer gold in his hair even here, was Brad.  
  
Nate stripped off his glove and pressed his palm flat to the wall of cold between them. His fingers were numb almost immediately.  
  
It was nearly impossible to tell through the patters of frost, but he thought he saw Brad smile, edged with his own typical chill. Nate could feel him looking, as hot-eyed and unyielding as ever.  
  
The radio crackled again, and this time the hiss was followed by Ray's determined, furious voice. "-ick, do you copy? Tell me I'm getting through."  
  
Cold to nearly the bone of him, Nate's hand was steady when he picked up his radio to answer. "I copy. I'm fine. Get the snowmobile ready." Nate let his own smile tear across his face. None of the strange creatures that had started this would stop them now. "I found him."


	2. image - Brad in the ice

 


End file.
